Whether the weather
necessitates to anchor
     myself as a tether
when the frankenstorm
     socks the east coast
     shredding terrestrial
     zone like soft leather
i may end up attired

     in esprit de corpse
     being tossed hither and yon
     to and fro like a feather.
If...the forecast imbues  
     meteorologists flooded with folly
making a mockery
     of humanity run amuck
     in panic mode - by golly

this mortal male will don himself as
     "the chief garbage" taster
     with a garland of holly
shuffling along the
     boulevard of broken
     tin cans and *******
     feigning to be melancholy.
This getup a throw

     back to a costume  
     adorned this papa when
     he attended grade school
eons ago, where corporal punishment
     prevailed in case  
     student disavowed any rule
such as smoking in the boys' room  
     cigarette such

     manufactured by Kent or kool
or lambasting any unlikable teacher,
     (whose bookish face) at
     receiving end of
     pranks rather cruel.
So...presume that Halloween
     will take place without any axe
of nature to grind monster

     brewing at sea
and picture this poet decked
     out dumpster diving
     for the most fetid trash
     and materiel with cracks
to be affixed upon
     a heavy duty sack
     with goop from

     sullied foodstuffs -
     a cause for glee
rotten meat infested
     with maggots, shards of glass,
     crushed metal cans,
     et cetera to the max
will be haphazardly splayed
     (Jackson Pollack like)

     on this sturdy cloth
     that will drape me
spurring a conga like of hungry beasts
     ready go pounce – menacing
     ferocious wolf packs
adding to the welter per helter skelter
     of decayed detritus distributed
     from head to knee

and a set of punishing
     pronged antlers spiking out
     in all directions upon
     ma noggin-hence to tax
utmost fear in passersby, and quite
     an abominable sight to see.